


Set Me as a Seal Upon Thine Heart

by Melanie_Athene



Series: To Err Is Human [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fix-It, Humor, M/M, Post Season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-19
Updated: 2011-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-24 19:10:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melanie_Athene/pseuds/Melanie_Athene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is always a calm before the storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Set Me as a Seal Upon Thine Heart

The long walk back to where they had left their vehicles parked was a sombre one. Bobby and Sam conversed in low, agitated tones as they followed the narrow path their flashlights shed, eerie shadows lurking just beyond the light's reach. Castiel and Dean trailed several yards behind, sharing the single flashlight in Dean's possession, both men silent and wrapped in thought. The twisted skeletons of trees loomed overhead, branches like greedy, grasping fingers reaching down to snag clothing and hair as they passed by, as if envying the humans their mobility.

Sam and Bobby increased their pace, leaving Dean and Castiel alone, hidden from sight by a turn in the trail and the darkness of the night. Dean's glance slid sideways to Castiel's face, a pale oval floating along beside him: his jaw clenched, his brow creased.

In a gesture that felt comfortably familiar, as if he'd done it a thousand times instead of this being the first, Dean casually slipped his hand into Castiel's and kept walking.

Castiel's head turned Dean's way and surprised blue eyes flicked from his face, down to their joined hands, and back up to his face again.

Dean squeezed his fingers reassuringly and gave him a small smile. “It's all right, Cas,” he said. “We'll figure this out. Nothing's changed. We knew Crowley was out there.”

“But now he knows I am here,” Castiel growled, stopping in his tracks and giving Dean's hand a tug until the hunter was pulled up tight against his chest. Castiel's free arm came up to wrap around Dean, crushing him closer still. “He'll come for me. He'll come for me... and he'll find you.”

“We don't know he knows,” Dean murmured, leaning into the solid warmth Castiel's body offered. “The witch only knew you as Father Novak. You escaped before any blood sacrifice was made. And that clearing is in ashes now, we burned everything before we left. Everything you left for us to burn, that is. You were pretty thorough, Cas.”

“Crowley's name upon the altar was more than sufficient to establish a connection. When the ceremony commenced, he knew all that happened as it happened. He undoubtedly felt the power I unleashed – he would instantly recognize it as mine. It is just a matter of time before he pinpoints my location.”

“Then we'll have to stop him,” Dean said. “I won't let him take you away from me.”

“He won't be easy to stop.”

Dean snorted. “When has anything ever been easy for me?” he said lightly. “We'll deal with him, Cas. When he comes – if he comes – we'll be ready. Until then...”

“Until then,” Castiel echoed, his eyes softening as he eagerly welcomed Dean's lips with his own, the lingering kiss both reassurance and promise, a comfort both men needed very much at that moment.

“Ahem...” A discreet cough came from behind them. “Uh, sorry to interrupt, guys, but I heard sirens. The authorities are on their way. It's best if we're not here to answer their questions.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Dean said, the words tickling against Castiel's lips. With a final, gentle brush of his mouth against the ex-angel's, he slowly stepped back and turned to face his brother: chin up, his stance defiant, his fingers still firmly tangled with Castiel's.

“You go ahead with Bobby,” he ordered. “Cas and I will be along in a bit.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded. With a final glance at Dean and Castiel's linked hands, he turned and loped back down the trail.

“Dean...” Castiel said as they followed at a more sedate pace. His fingers tightened reflexively and he felt an answering tension in Dean's grip upon his hand.

“I'm not going to like this, am I?” Dean asked.

“No. I don't think you will.”

“Spit it out,” Dean sighed.

“I am not returning with you to Bobby's,” Castiel said quietly.

“You're not what?”

“I cannot protect you as I am now. My presence will put you in danger.”

“So will your absence,” Dean argued heatedly. “Crowley will try to find you through me. Bobby's will be the first place he looks – whether you're there or not is immaterial.”

“Perhaps. But you will be safe. He will not be able to break through the wards.”

“Isn't that a damned good reason for you to be there with us? It's not just about _you_ protecting _me_ , Cas. I want – I _need_ – to keep you safe too.”

“I know...”

“Then it's settled. You're coming back to Bobby's with me.”

“No. I am not. I will – soon,” Castiel hastened to reassure. “I concede that we have a better chance if we make a stand together. But not yet. Not tonight. In addition to my concerns for your safety, I have obligations to meet.”

“Are you really willing to gamble that Crowley won't just suddenly pop up and grab you?”

“I am fairly certain he will require time to make arrangements for the attempt. Remember, Dean, he does not know that I am human. He believes I am still powered by all those dark souls. He will be rightfully wary. I think the most opportune moment for him to launch an attack will be All Hallows Eve, when those who practise black magic are most active and can lend their strength to his. That is five days from now. One day more than I need. Ample time for me to do what I must do.”

“You _think_. But you don't _know_. Cas, are these obligations of yours worth risking your life for?”

“I cannot simply disappear from the school without saying goodbye to my students. Father Desmond will require a few days to arrange a replacement for me – time I can put to use making certain that all traces of the coven have been eliminated. Also, I am helping to set up something called a church bazaar on Saturday morning and that afternoon I am assisting in the construction of a house. Sunday afternoon I'm on post-bazaar clean-up duty, which I am given to understand is tantamount to being the Ladies Auxiliary's slave. I have a shift at the soup kitchen when they are through with me. And then there's Milly... poor Milly must be made to understand that we will no longer be able to sleep together.”

“Who the fuck is Milly?” Dean shook his hand free from Castiel's and waved it furiously in the air. “Is she the blonde with the long legs?”

“No, she is grey with – ”

“A cougar?” Dean rolled his eyes. “You let some cougar sink her claws in you? I thought you were still a virgin!”

“I believe she has been de-clawed... and my virginity is intact.”

“That's what they all say.”

“Dean...” Castiel stopped walking and cupped Dean's face in his hand, meeting his angry glare with a level gaze. “While your jealousy is as flattering as it is unexpected, you should know that no one could ever compete with you for my affections. Milly is a cat.”

“A cat?”

Castiel nodded.

“I'm jealous of a cat.”

“Yes.”

“I'm an ass.”

Castiel tilted Dean's head until his lips were perfectly aligned for a kiss, his free hand sliding down Dean's spine until it rested on the curve of his backside. “Such a lovely ass,” Castiel whispered, and kissed him.

 

~*~

 

“I still don't like this,” Dean grumbled as the Impala made its way up South Kiwanis Avenue en route to Father Desmond's house. “I mean, I think it's great that you've developed a sense of responsibility and made friends. Sam and I rarely get to see what happens next. Tidying up after a case has never been our strong point... it's so much easier to just move on.” He shot a glance at Castiel. “But here you've gone and made a life for yourself. I gotta hand it to you... you've become a real boy, Pinocchio.”

“I do not know who that is.”

“Of course you don't,” Dean chuckled. “The important thing is that you know who you are. Some humans don't learn that in a lifetime. What I'm saying, Cas, is that I'll understand if you want to keep that new life. Once we gank Crowley, I mean.”

“I do not want a new life. I am content with the one I have. Here. With you.”

“The world's your oyster, Cas. I'm not much of a consolation prize.”

“Four days, Dean,” Castiel said firmly. “Four days, and then I am yours.”

“Oh, God,” Dean moaned. “Oh, God! When you say it like that, I – ”

“Dean!”

“Oh, shit, shit, no! Maybe no one will notice!”

An already glowing Castiel was far beyond caring if they did.

Without bothering to signal, Dean jerked the steering wheel into a quick left turn and the Impala tore into the school parking lot, leaving a curved streak of rubber behind on the pavement. Dean's eyes darted left and right, seeking cover, any cover. The best he could manage on such short notice was a little stand of trees opposite the football field. Praying the vegetation and the late hour would sufficiently hide them from view, he parked as close to the grove as he could get without damaging his baby's paint job and turned off the engine. Twisting in his seat to face Castiel, he was startled to suddenly receive an armful of frantic ex-angel. Castiel's fingers tore at his shirt, desperate to touch his mark, as his mouth blindly sought Dean's.

“Oh, God,” Dean moaned a third time, and Castiel shuddered and pressed himself even closer to the hunter, almost climbing into his lap, prevented from doing so only by the unforgiving presence of the steering wheel.

As their lips finally connected, the interior of the Impala was consumed by an unearthly burst of light: greens and blues and brilliant white all woven together in an intricate array that so dazzled Dean's eyes that he closed them and simply melted into Castiel's embrace.

Time ceased to have any meaning. Dean drifted in a haze of light and pleasure. Nothing existed but Castiel, his touch a gentle caress now that the urgency had passed, his kiss slowing and deepening into something more than a simple press of lips on lips. It was a tasting of Dean's soul, a breathing in of his very essence. It was at once both the most intoxicating and most frightening experience Dean had ever known. He had no words to describe this level of intimacy.

“Oh...” he whispered helplessly. “Oh...”

“Oh, Castiel,” Castiel prompted, his voice a sandpapery rumble deep in his chest. “My name. Call my name, Dean.”

“Cas...” Dean whimpered.

“Say it, Dean.” Castiel tightened his grip on the brand, and Dean's cock pulsed as if stroked by an expert, invisible hand.

“Cas,” he said. And louder: “Cas!”

Castiel shook his head and his mouth abruptly replaced his fingers on Dean's scar. His cheeks hollowed as he began to suckle upon the suddenly burning flesh and his hand drifted down to the crotch of Dean's jeans, a curious finger trailing up and down the fly before he cupped the heated bulge of flesh concealed by the denim and –

“Castiel!” Dean roared... and came. Just like that. Just like a horny teenager touched for the first time. With no time to whisk aside his clothing and avoid a messy situation inside his pants, he came. And came. And came...

Castiel held Dean as vicious aftershocks wracked his body, kissing his cheeks, his eyes, his temples, before returning his full attention to Dean's mouth, drinking in each sigh, each fevered moan.

“I thought... I thought we were going to wait?” Dean murmured weakly.

“You said _I_ had to wait,” Castiel replied, vastly amused and more than a little smug. “As this is not _your_ first time, I saw no reason why I should deny you your release.”

“You bastard,” Dean drawled, grabbing a fistful of Castiel's hair and dragging his head down for a long and luscious kiss. A smirk flickered across his face as their lips parted, and Castiel stared at him with growing trepidation.

“Oh – ” Dean said clearly and deliberately.

“Dean, do you think that's wise? We are already, as you might say, pushing our luck here. What if someone comes along and – ”

“ – God,” Dean concluded firmly, and kissed him.

 

~*~

 

It was a very long time before the Impala pulled up to the curb outside of Father Desmond's house. The lights were still on, as if the priest was keeping vigil, praying for Castiel's safe return, but the curtains were pulled and the neighbourhood was silent and still.

“Virtue still intact there, Cas?” Dean teased, watching as Castiel shifted restlessly in his seat.

“Yes. No thanks to you,” Castiel grumbled.

“Fried a few brain cells holding yourself back, did you?” Dean stretched and yawned luxuriously. “At least I know I'll sleep well tonight.”

“Show off. Three times... is that not somewhat extravagant?”

“A personal best – considering you barely touched me and I had pants on the whole time.” Dean grinned. “I can't wait to see what happens when you kick loose.”

“Believe me, Dean,” Castiel growled, “if it were not for the fact that I might have to serve as bait, my pesky virginity would no longer be an issue.”

“Whoa. What?” Dean said, all traces of humour gone. “Don't go playing the martyr, Cas. We're going to tackle Crowley as a team. Remember? No heroics.”

Castiel nodded stiffly, but did not resist when Dean reached over and took his hand.

“I'm sorry I was a cocktease,” Dean whispered. “It wasn't only to get under your skin, though. I truly want you mojoed up so you can defend yourself when Sam and I aren't around.”

“In that you were successful. You will be pleased to know my 'battery' is almost half full now.”

“That's great,” Dean said with a grin. “I super-charged you, huh?”

“So it would seem.”

“Then I trust, this time, you will manage to keep out of trouble – at least for the next four days.”

“I shall endeavour to do so.”

“Four days...” Dean lamented. “How can you bear the wait?”

“I have spent the entirety of my existence waiting for you,” Castiel said softly. “Four days is as nothing compared to that.”

“Fuck, Cas, I don't know what to say...”

“Tell me you will think about me.”

“I'll think of nothing but you,” Dean admitted readily, leaning over to nuzzle Castiel's neck, steadily working his way around the jaw and up towards the lips he longed to claim.

“Tell me that you – ”

Father Desmond's front door opened, spilling a rectangle of light across the lawn, the sudden illumination sending Dean and Castiel skittering guiltily apart.

“Castiel?” the old priest cried in a voice that quaked with hope. “Castiel, is it really you?”

Castiel shot Dean a look of regret and opened the car door. “It is I, Father,” he said, stepping out of the Impala and awkwardly patting Father Desmond on the back when he rushed forward to embrace him. “I am well.”

“Bless you, my son,” Father Desmond called out to Dean, who stood on the far side of the Impala, bemusedly observing the reunion. “You have returned the lost lamb to the flock.”

 _More like I'm delivering a wolf in sheep's clothing,_ Dean thought giddily. _A very sexy wolf... with entirely too many clothes on for my liking._

“I'm glad I could help,” he said lamely. “And, Father.... about this afternoon.”

“You were distraught. All is forgiven.” He hooked his hand around Castiel's elbow and beamed. “Would you care to join us, Dean? I think the occasion calls for a celebratory drink.”

“Thank you, perhaps another time,” Dean replied, edging himself closer to the Impala the better to conceal the telling stain on his jeans. “I'd better get home. Bobby and Sam are probably waiting up for me.” And didn't the thought of that send a shiver of dread down his spine. He could just imagine the look on their faces if he walked in flaunting a wet patch the size of Texas. Oh the horror! Hopefully he had some clean clothing stashed in the trunk, or they had given up on him and retired for the night.

“Please give my regards to Robert and your brother.” Father Desmond yawned, and put a quick hand up to his mouth in dismay. “Pardon me,” he said. “Perhaps the hour is later than I thought. Another time sounds eminently more practical. It's past time this old man was in bed.” He cast a speculative glance from Dean to Castiel and Dean fought the urge to slap a hand over the hickey on his neck. “I'll just leave you to say your goodnights in private. Castiel, please remember to lock up. I'll see you in the morning and you can tell me all about your adventure then.”

Dean and Castiel stood frozen in place as the priest returned to his house and closed the door behind him. Not a curtain twitched, but Dean felt embarrassingly exposed to view. “So... uh... I'll see you later,” he said uncertainly.

“Four days, Dean.” Castiel smiled, and a sudden, joyful pulse sang through the handprint on Dean's shoulder.

“Four days,” Dean whispered, watching Castiel cross the lawn and disappear inside. “I can do four days. No problem.”

 

~*~

 

“What is your problem, Dean?” Sam snapped, shoving his laptop back from the table's edge and turning an evil eye on his brother. “If you can't concentrate on research, that's fine. But do you have to sit there kicking my chair? I'm pretty sure I'm on to something, but I can't hear myself think over your heavy sighs. Can you go pine somewhere else?”

“I am not pining,” Dean said, clearly offended. “I have a cramp. I was trying to stretch my legs.”

“Well, go work your kink out somewhere else. Maybe a little 'alone time' in your room will make things better.”

“Maybe kicking your ass will help,” Dean growled.

“That's enough, boys,” Bobby grumbled. “Sam, show me what you've found. Dean...” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Just get the hell out of here, will ya. Go for a walk. Or a drive. Better still, why don't you go check up on Cas and see how he's doing.”

“A drive sounds good,” Dean muttered. “Is there anything you need me to pick up while I'm out?”

“We're running low on salt,” Bobby replied.

“Salt. Got it.” Jangling his keys, Dean fled the room.

“He's not fooling anyone,” Bobby remarked, leaning over Sam's shoulder and squinting at the screen.

“Only himself,” Sam replied.

 

~*~

 

Traffic was surprising light for a Saturday. Dean made two quick stops, one at Walmart to purchase several large bags of salt, and the other at Verizon Wireless where he picked out the simplest cell phone they had in stock, figuring the fancier models were far too complicated for Castiel. It was a wise decision. Hell, it took Dean several minutes to figure out how to program the stupid thing. Thankfully, he only had three numbers to enter: his own, Sam's and Bobby's.

With a valid reason to visit safely tucked in his pocket, and Castiel's new phone number entered in his own directory, Dean turned the Impala towards East Amidon Street, figuring the Habitat for Humanity office could give him directions to their current project.

 

~*~

 

The worksite was a beehive of activity. The noise of hammers and saws and the smell of sawdust hit Dean long before the skeleton of the house came into view. He stood there for a moment, drinking in the sights and sounds of a life that had nothing to do with hunting. Castiel was nowhere to be seen but, now that he was here, Dean was in no rush to find him. He was content to observe, to soak up the easy banter and efficiency of the construction crew and pretend, just for a little while, that this was his world too.

“Can I help you?” a young woman inquired. A pink tool belt was slung low around her generous hips and she wore a matching pink hard hat. The tools, Dean was quick to note, while equally pink were well-worn and obviously cared for. The woman exuded an aura of competence and confidence.

“I'm looking for Father Novak,” Dean replied.

“Oh!” Her face lit up at the mere mention of the name. “He's up there,” she pointed skyward.

For an instant, Dean's startled glance went to the heavens, but his eyes quickly dropped back down to the top of the house. And there was Castiel: casually walking along a narrow beam with a hammer in his hand and several nails clamped between his lips. Dean found himself holding his breath until the balancing act was over. Castiel leaned over to receive a two-by-four from a man a floor below him. Heaving it into place, he knelt to pound nails into the base, then smoothly rose to attach the other end.

“Father Novak!” the woman hollered, before Dean could warn her not to startle the priest.

He need not have worried. Castiel turned his head and gave a casual wave of acknowledgement, a wide smile spreading across his face as he noticed Dean standing there. Nimbly, he swung himself to the scaffolding and clambered down. Dean could not help but notice his eyes were not the only ones that admired the way tight jeans framed Castiel's ass.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, wiping a bead of perspiration from his brow. His cheeks were flushed, his hair windswept and, if Dean was not mistaken, he was beginning to sport a tan. It looked good on him. Very good. It brought out the blue in his eyes. Eyes that were caressing Dean's face in a very un-fatherly manner...

“Cas – Father Novak,” Dean swiftly corrected himself. “I have something for you.”

_“Oh?”_

God help him, the man was flirting with him. In front of – “I don't believe I caught your name.” Dean turned to face the pink-favouring carpenter, more than a little pink himself, and hoping Castiel would follow his lead and behave himself.

“This is Nancy,” Castiel said. “Nancy, this is Dean. My... friend.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Nancy grinned and reached out to shake Dean's hand. “There's coffee in that tent,” she nodded behind them. “Some excellent pastries too. I just had my break, or I'd join you.” Laughing to herself at how unlikely it was that either man desired her company, she trotted off towards the house.

“She knows,” Dean said.

“She suspects... Do you mind?” Castiel said hesitantly.

“Not in the slightest.” Dean smirked. “It's not my reputation that's suffering, _Father_ Novak.”

Shoulders bumping, they wandered over to the tent. It was empty, save for the scent of coffee. Castiel grabbed Dean by the wrist and pulled him inside. “It's not my _reputation_ that is suffering either,” he whispered. “I've missed you, Dean.”

“I've missed you, too.”

Suddenly, the few inches separating them were too much to bear. As one, they moved together, lips meeting in a hungry kiss, busy hands seeking reassurance that the other was really there, that it wasn't just another lonely dream...

Approaching voices sent them reeling apart before they could be discovered. By the time a half dozen workers trooped into the tent, Castiel was pouring coffee while Dean filled a paper plate with pastries.

Dean sipped coffee and stuffed his mouth with delicacies as he listened to the animated conversation the workers shared with Castiel. All too soon, the break was over and it was time to return to the job.

“Would your friend like to join us, Father? The more the merrier.”

“Dean?” Castiel inquired hopefully. “Do you know how to swing a hammer?”

Dean smiled. “I do indeed,” he said.

 

~*~

 

It was dusk by the time work was finished for the day. Dean stood with his hands in his pockets, leaning up against the Impala, fondly watching Castiel as he moved though the rapidly thinning crowd. The ex-angel's progress was slow, as he paused often to exchange a few words before continuing on his path back to Dean.

“They like you,” Dean said as Castiel finally stood before him and the last remaining truck drove past, its occupants waving a cheerful farewell to them both. “They really like you, Cas.”

“They are good people,” Castiel replied. “Hard working, generous, kind. I once thought such goodness to be a rare commodity. I was wrong. So very wrong.”

“You haven't exactly met prime examples of humanity hanging out with me.” Dean sighed, staring blindly at the house which was well on its way to becoming someone's home. “But they're out there. They're the reason I do what I do. The good people. The innocents. The ones I'd die to protect, so they never have to live the life I live.”

“Dean...” Castiel swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. “Your soul is the brightest I have ever seen. You are my definition of humanity at its best.”

“I'm nothing special, Cas. You're the only angel standing here.”

“Almost angel.”

“Close enough.” Dean grinned, and raised a lecherous brow, trying to defuse the serious moment. “Wanna put a few more feathers on those wings, baby?”

“Baby?” Castiel said indignantly.

Dean laughed. “Oh wise and wonderful Castiel, once and future Angel of the Lord, would you care to join me for a night on the town, hopefully followed by a little one-on-one wing resurrection? If you can fit it in your busy schedule, that is.”

“My evening is free.” Castiel smiled. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“I am,” Dean said, surprising himself with his easy capitulation to the word 'date'.

“Then I accept. On one condition.”

“And that is?”

“That I pay. I do not wish the evening to be tainted by phoney credit cards or money obtained by dubious means. Father Desmond helped me open a bank account and I deposited most of my first pay cheque. I have twenty dollars in cash. Is that enough for a night on the town? If not, I can employ my client card and password if we stop by an ATM.”

“Cas, you're killing me here. What are you trying to do? Make an honest man of me?”

“That is my intent.” Castiel smiled again and tapped a finger against his clerical collar. “Call it a hazard of the job.”

 

~*~

 

With Castiel's limited finances in mind, Dean took advantage of a McDonald's drive-through and ordered a Big Mac Meal and a super-sized Coke for himself and a Happy Meal with a large strawberry milkshake for Castiel. Castiel proudly handed over his twenty dollar bill and expressed great delight in the variety of money he received in exchange. While he counted and recounted the coins, trying to figure out which ones went together to add up to a dollar, Dean drove to a deserted little park and laid their humble feast out on a picnic table. He almost fell off the bench laughing when Castiel drew a plastic bag from the Happy Meal and studied the little toy it contained with all the seriousness of an archaeologist discovering an important artifact.

“Princess Celestia,” Castiel read. “A winged unicorn.” He ripped the bag open and tipped the toy out in his hand. “She's very pink,” he said, “but not as pink as the box Barbie comes in. I like her blue hair.”

Dean snorted and sputtered until Coke dribbled out of his nose.

Castiel ignored him to explore the other wonders inside the colourful _My Little Pony_ box. “A burger and fries... It is not so very different from your meal, Dean. Just smaller.”

“Does it make you happy, Cas?”

“Not especially.” Castiel consumed his burger in three swift bites. “But you do,” he continued matter of factly, helping himself to Dean's Big Mac while the hunter was too busy gaping at him to complain.

“What else do people do on a date?” Castiel asked, attacking his milkshake with his usual gusto.

“Uh... They see a movie, or go dancing. They take walks in the moonlight, or on a beach.”

“I do not understand most movies, and I do not know how to dance. There is no moon tonight, and we are many miles from the sea.”

“We could go bowling, or take in a concert, or play pool, or hit a bar.”

Castiel frowned.

“Or,” Dean said softly, setting down his Coke and sliding over to remove the milkshake from Castiel's hand. “We could do this...”

Castiel's lips were sweet and sticky and utterly perfect in every way. Dean took his time deepening the kiss, savouring each taste, each slick touch of tongue on tongue, every helpless little gasp and moan and whimper that Castiel made.

“I don't think I can wait another day,” Castiel whispered.

Dean glanced around the picnic area. We're too exposed here,” he said. “I could drive us somewhere more private...”

“No.” Castiel nodded to the dark promise of the trees. “There,” he suggested. “No one will see.”

“Okay... okay... Just let me think. I want – We need – ”

“Now, Dean.”

“Just a minute.” Dean sprinted over to the Impala and rummaged in the trunk. He returned in a few seconds, panting slightly, a crumpled tan ball of cloth clenched in his hands.

“Put this on,” he said breathlessly.

“My coat? Dean – ”

“Humour me, Cas. Please don't argue... just humour me.”

Castiel slipped on the dirty, wrinkled trench coat and stared at Dean expectantly, his head tilted to one side in that oh-so-familiar way.

It wasn't perfect. There was no suit, no tie... but it was Cas. His Cas. And that was more than enough for Dean. Dean grabbed hold of both lapels and pulled, tumbling his 'angel' into his arms and smothering his surprised gasp with a kiss that curled Castiel's toes and made his knees feel wobbly.

“Come with me,” Dean ordered, taking Castiel's hand and leading them both deep into the shadows of the woods. When he felt they were far enough away from the prospect of any prying eyes, Dean turned and wrapped himself around Castiel, his hands delving beneath fabric to meet at the ex-angel's back, almost crawling into the trench coat with him in his desperate bid to get closer, faster... now-now-now-now- _now!_

Dean?” Castiel said uncertainly “D-Dean?”

Instantly, Dean paused in his violation of the smooth flesh of Castiel's throat.

“Do you want me to stop, Cas?” Dean said, gasping for breath and obviously battling to regain some semblance of self-control. “Say the word and I will. I promise I won't do anything that you don't want me to do.”

“I don't want you to stop. It's just...”

“Too fast?” Dean completed the sentence. “Too fast. Too much.”

Castiel ducked his head in shy acknowledgement.

“Then we'll take it slower. Baby steps, Cas. Sit down.”

Castiel obediently lowered himself to the ground.

“Let's start with what you know,” Dean whispered, kneeling down to face him.

He leaned forward, and Castiel's lips met his halfway across the narrow space between them. This kiss was slow and tender, a careful glide of lips and tongues. After several minutes, Castiel's hands came up to frame Dean's face, changing its angle slightly, and both men groaned, united in their desire to intensify the kiss. Dean's hands fluttered to Castiel's shoulders, pushing the trench coat down his arms and over his hands until it formed a puddle of cloth behind him. Gently, Dean eased the ex-angel down until he rested upon the improvised blanket, and then the hunter crawled up Castiel's body until he was covering him from above as the coat sheltered him from below.

“Okay, Cas?” he murmured.

A low, long moan was his reply.

“Okay,” Dean panted. “I'm going to start moving now, just a little rocking motion back and forth. Rub back against me. It will feel good, I promise.”

It felt better than good. Castiel's eyes rolled back in his head and he bit hard on his lower lip to contain the scream he felt building in his throat.

“Okay?” Dean repeated. “Is this okay?”

“You talk too much,” Castiel growled, and flipped them over until Dean was cradled in the trench coat and Castiel was astride him, thrusting against him clumsily but with great enthusiasm and growing assurance.

“It's better... with fewer clothes,” Dean managed between frantic kisses, and Castiel's hands shot to Dean's shirt hem, pulling the T-shirt up and off in one smooth motion as Dean arched beneath him. Castiel's shirt and Roman collar were next to go. And then, while Dean's hands were ineffectively fumbling with his belt buckle, Castiel stood up long enough to deal with his own boots and belt and jeans. Naked, he crouched back down to assist Dean. They got as far as pulling Dean's remaining clothes down to his ankles, but when the stubborn garments got caught up on his boots, neither man had the patience to complete the task. Castiel simply fell back into Dean's waiting arms, and once again they began to rock and slide their bodies together.

It was definitely better with fewer clothes. Better still with none at all. Impossibly good when Dean reached down between them and collected them both in the tight sheath of his hand.

Bright spots of light danced before Castiel's eyes and he whimpered helplessly.

“Breathe,” Dean whispered in his ear. “Take a deep breath... and just let go.”

“I can't... I can't...”

“You can,” Dean said, and kissed him.

And, quite suddenly, Castiel discovered that he could...

Thick ropes of cum splattered through Dean's fingers as Castiel thrashed his way through his first orgasm. His mouth tore away from Dean's to release a howl that split the quiet of the night. Breath sobbing in his throat, eyes wide with wonder, his mouth smashed back down to Dean's and he kissed the hunter with such furious abandon that it pushed Dean over the edge as well.

Bodies sated and limbs deliciously entwined, their kisses gentled to the merest brush of lips on lips.

Castiel's head dropped to rest upon Dean's chest, and he turned to nuzzle against his mark. Dean's heart tripped beneath his ear, echoing the mad patter of his own. And Castiel smiled, content to stay like this forever.... or at least until it was time to do it all over again.

 

~*~

 

The drive back to Father Desmond's house passed in comfortable silence, with many a smiling, sidelong glance cast at one another. The journey was over before either man was ready for it to end. Dean smoothly pulled the Impala up to the curb and killed the engine. Without saying a word, he reached over and picked up Castiel's hand, drawing it back towards his lips and placing a kiss in the exact centre of the palm.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” he said, the old cliché suddenly sounding as fresh and new to his ears as it undoubtedly was to Castiel's.

“I'm sorry I couldn't wait,” Castiel said earnestly. “I'm sure I would have enjoyed whatever plans you had in mind for my seduction.”

“Oh, my poor innocent angel...” Dean leaned across the seat to steal a kiss. “I still have plans for you. Many, many plans. We haven't even started on the list of things I want to do to you – not to mention all the things I want you to do to me.”

“You mean... there's more?” Castiel's eyes widened.

“Much, much more,” Dean laughed. “But I promised you baby steps... and I'm a man of my word.”

“Baby steps for a baby in a trench coat?” Castiel said somewhat tartly.

Dean grimaced. “I'm sorry I called you that. I know it hurt your feelings. You know how I lash out when I get frustrated...”

“I know.”

“And you know I've always kinda liked your ratty old coat. The way it swishes when you walk. The way it smells like ozone and freshly cut grass and cinnamon – and everything good.”

“I am beginning to think you have a trench coat fetish.”

“Maybe I do,” Dean chuckled. “When you were off fighting your war, sometimes I'd catch a glimpse of someone walking around a corner, wearing a coat like yours... but it was never you. Or they vanished before I could be sure.”

“Sometimes it was me, Dean. I couldn't stay away. I had to see you, if only for a few moments. It kept me going...” He hung his head, deeply ashamed. “Regrettably, I was going in the wrong direction.”

“But you're back on the right track now,” Dean soothed, running his hand up and down Castiel's thigh.

“I am. Thanks to you. You brought me back from something I was not meant to survive. Those souls were killing me... consuming me. There was very little left of 'Castiel' at the end.”

“Cas... Why did you ask us to bow down and love you? That was weirdly phrased, even for you. Most deities would have said worship. Bow down and _worship_ me.”

“I'd rather not say,” Castiel said, turning his face away from Dean to look out the Impala's side window. But the light was such that his reflection in the glass was as clear as if he stood in front of a mirror. His lips were trembling, and a single tear tracked from one eye.

“Okay,” Dean said quietly, Turning his head, he too looked out of his window, giving Castiel the time he needed to reach a hand up and scrub it across his face.

“Someday I'll tell you,” Castiel whispered. “Someday, when you're ready to hear it. When you're ready to believe me.”

“Okay,” Dean repeated.

“I should go,” Castiel said reluctantly. “Father Desmond will expect me to attend Mass, and then – ”

“And then you're going to charm the panties off of some old ladies.”

“They are not all old.”

“Stay away from the young ones, Cas. They're trouble.”

“You already provide me with more trouble than I need,” Castiel said, leaning over to press his lips to Dean's. And, for a while, the comfortable silence returned, broken only by a few soft sighs and the faint whisper of stubbled skin on stubbled skin.

“Is there something in your pocket, Dean?” Castiel murmured long minutes later. And, much to his astonishment, Dean whooped with uncontrollable laughter.

“Yeah, Cas,” he hiccupped. “Yeah, there actually is. I bought you a present.” He reached in his pocket and withdrew the forgotten cell phone.

“I did not get you anything,” Castiel said, dismayed.

“I think pulling me out of Hell was the ultimate gift,” Dean replied. “It's just a phone, Cas. It's for me as much as it is for you. Call me when you're ready to come home.”

“Home...” Castiel breathed reverently. “I like the sound of that.”


End file.
